


Transformation;

by orphan_account



Series: Symbiosis [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XIII Series, Final Fantasy XIII-2, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: F/M, Smut, bhuni!hoperai implications, farron sisters feels, implied fanille
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:32:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was only one certainty – that she was fundamentally the most important person to him. Nothing and no one else would ever compare. He revolved and spiraled around her, utterly, into oblivion. She was the sun. She electrified him, burned his insides to a crisp, and brought him back to life each night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fraying

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can standalone, but is technically a continuation of [Symbiosis](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1380385) \- so I would recommend reading that first. I split it into two chapters for easier reading.

> _“Together, their weight balances each other and allows them to go on spinning forever, appearing almost magic. But if they come apart, all that’s left is two broken pieces that cannot stand on their own. Then love is mutual dependence - but where does that leave me? I’ve never been able to depend on others. Does that mean I cannot love?” - Lightning Farron, Lightning Returns_

He stirred. His thick eyelashes fluttered, but his eyes stayed firmly closed. He turned his head, mumbling half-spoken phrases, his hands pushed out against some invisible force. He wasn’t ready. Not yet. Just one more moment. Just…

“Hope,” faintly, her voiced reached him. So familiar, yet so foreign. It couldn’t possibly be her. He’d been here so long….too long. How many years had it been?

He ignored the calls. She wasn’t real. She was an illusion. Nothing here was real. Was the searing pain in his shoulder real? Were the lacerations in his stomach even really there?

He knew that when a body part was damaged, nerve endings would send signals to the brain about the nature of the damage. In essence, pain was simply a creation of the brain - a survival mechanism. However, this "survival" mechanism was harming him more than helping him. His central nervous system was being overloaded. If he could desensitize himself to this, if he could somehow manage to shut it down, he would be able to block it all out. He would at least be able to stop _feeling_ this constant cycle of torture. It was the only option left to him anymore.

But her voice….

Would he still hear her?

Would she disappear too?

No, it didn’t matter. She was a hallucination, after all. A figment of his imagination. She wasn’t there. She left him long ago. An erroneous perception of reality - that was all she was. He wouldn’t open his eyes. Not this time. Darkness was preferable. It was easier to focus on numbing the pain that way.

The last time he opened his eyes – how long ago was that? Years ago, if he had to guess. He vaguely remembered being suspended by coils of blazing light. Chains. In the beginning, he tried every possible way to break free, but soon his resolve left him. He was weak. He was _nothing._

The pain became a constant. It was the _only_ constant in this shifting realm of darkness. The only light surrounding him was a cage. The light was his savior and his enemy.

The last time…yes, he remembered now. The last time, his hands were different. Smaller. The realization brought bile rising to his throat. So much smaller – just like when he was a boy.

“Hope!” her voice called to him again, the pain in his shoulder burning.

He felt as if he was being pulled in all directions. His body was being torn apart from the inside out. Stretched. Reshaped. _Remolded._

He would be _worthy._

A final thought drifted to him, unbidden, unwanted.

How much of him would be left if he stripped _her_ out?

He jerked up, his eyes opening wide. It took them a moment to adjust to the light in the room coming from the bedside lamp. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, and there was a stifling tightness in his chest. His hands were twitching, wrapped tightly around her wrists hard enough to bruise. He was staring straight at her but didn’t even notice her presence.

“It’s okay,” she said, seemingly unfazed by the pressure exerted against her wrists. “Can you hear me?”

He shook his head, suddenly seeing her. He glanced down, noticing how tight his hold was on her. He immediately let go, absolutely mortified by his behavior.

Water pricked the corner of his eyes, and when he blinked a tear came streaming down.

“You’re crying…” her finger brushed the water from his cheek, a concerned expression marring her lovely features.

A current of nausea surged through him as he realized what was happening. He looked in the direction of the clock. 2:13 A.M.

Lightning was beside him in bed, her hair pulled in a messy bun, and her blue eyes followed his every furtive glance. His brain was scrambling, desperately attempting to recall what they were doing before this moment, but he simply couldn’t. His panic shot up tenfold. _How is that even possible?_ It was mere hours ago, and yet he couldn’t remember a single moment of it.

His breathing became more forced, harder, as his lungs tried to compensate. His entire body was shaking. He threw the covers away from his body and swung his legs to the side of the bed. He straightened his hunched form, trying desperately to push out air. His head was beginning to pound, he felt like he was losing his mind. He couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t _think._ All formulation of thought was thrown out the window – his mind simply wouldn’t _function_ \- and it was single most debilitating thing he’d ever experienced. He felt her soft touch against his back, cooled with sweat. Gently, she began rubbing and speaking to him in hushed tones – telling him to breathe.

Shhh. Just let it out.

Her hands wrapped around his stomach, and she rested her chin against his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck as she continued to whisper to him. Shallow, rapid breaths came out.

“Just listen to me,” she whispered. “I’m here, Hope. I’ll keep you safe.”

He wiped his eyes, feeling the traces of water against the back of his knuckles. _When did I start crying?_ Perhaps it was during his sleep. He could only indistinctly remember now. Recurring flashes of memory (or were they simply pretense?) that drifted to him, uninvited, during his sleep. It happened to him more often than he would have liked since he regained his body. It was alarming, to say the least, that he couldn’t even trust his own mind. The harsh reality of the situation weighed on him constantly.

“Sorry,” he said, hoarsely, erasing the last signs of his tears with hurried motions. “I’m…messed up.”

He let out a forced laugh in an attempt to cover the shame he felt.

“Don’t say that,” the tone in her voice was fierce, leaving no room for an argument, and she pressed herself against him tighter.

He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, letting her fingers etch careful, easy patterns against the skin of his chest. It was soothing.

He took a deep breath, in and out. Then another.

Once more.

He didn’t know how long he sat there against her, cherishing the silence. As long as she was with him, there was nothing to fear. Darkness cannot exist without the absence of light, so logic dictated he would never truly be in the dark when she was with him. A haze lifted from his mind, and he could breathe again. The thought that she could have slipped through his fingers unnerved him. The thought that he could have never met her, as awful as the circumstances were under which they met, made him sick.

As long as she was here, he could do anything.

He turned in her embrace, pulling her into his lap. His hands suddenly tangled in her hair, barely even processing his actions. He was reacting from a place of pure, unadulterated, and blinding _need._ He kissed her urgently, insistently – his tongue pushing inside her mouth without permission. She pulled back.

“Don’t you think we should talk about what happened?” She looked at him earnestly, clearly troubled by the night’s events.

No, that wouldn’t do. There would be time later. He forcefully pushed her back into the mattress, his mouth trailing down her loose tank top. His hands dug into the bones at her hip, holding her writhing form down. She was still trying to pull him back up to her, telling him to wait, asking him to talk to her. He ignored her, his teeth finding her cotton underwear and pulling them down her legs. He pressed his cheek against the warmth of her inner thigh, breathing through his nose. She shivered above him, the air tingling against her tender flesh. Her body stiffened, anticipating his next move. She was still teetering back and forth between want and denial, as evidenced by her half-hearted tugs at his shoulder. She began to speak, but his finger pressed inside her and her words came out as a surprised moan instead. He heard her curse under her breath, vague mutterings about how he shouldn’t be so good at this. He nudged his tongue inside her, pushing at her inner walls and tasting her. Her hands reached for his hair, urging him on. He could hear her audibly panting, each shallow thrust of his tongue making her grip his hair harder. He flicked his tongue against her clit, and she moaned loudly.

He drew back, placing wet hot kisses along the expanse of her inner thighs. She was tugging at his hair, impatient for him to continue. He ran his tongue along her inner folds, savoring the taste of her. He shoved a second finger inside her, pumping in and out as his tongue teased her clit. She wrapped her legs around his head – it was something she’d become fond of doing ever since the first time – shoving him further into her. He breathed through his nose, groaning against her when she began to grind against his mouth. He flattened his tongue, swiping it slowly against her clit back and forth. Her moans became progressively louder and he could barely control himself. He pumped his fingers into her once more before withdrawing them completely, focusing all his attention on his tongue. He sucked at her clit and increased his pace; licking at it with quick flicks and presses that left her hands clawing at the bed sheets. Her entire body was squirming against him, her hips pressing harder into his mouth.

She wanted him as close as she could possibly get him. She was moaning his name, scratching at the sheets, begging him to be inside her. It was exactly what he wanted to hear. As fast as he started, he stopped, denying her the orgasm she craved. He couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied when she whimpered in protest.

He was doing this for her just as much as he was doing it for him. He was selfish. He wanted her, needed her, all to himself. He needed her to be his. He needed to hear her say she wanted him, over and over. He needed to hear his name come out of her mouth in breathy, frantic moans, as she begged him for more. He needed her to need _him_ as much as he needed her.

He moved so he was level with her face, bending his arms and letting his elbows press into the sheets beside her to support his weight. He placed an innocent kiss against her lips as he opened the nightstand drawer. Then, he pressed inside her, thrusting slow – achingly slow – into her wetness. She cried out in pleasure, pulling him down to her and kissing him hungrily.

When she asked him to go deeper, he pulled out entirely. She glared at him, angry he wasn’t giving her what she wanted.

“Light,” he whispered. “You’re with me, right?”

“What do you mean?” she huffed, confused why he was stopping.

He bent to her ear, murmuring in a grave voice, “The thought that you were with me was all that kept me going.”

“Hope…” she wrapped an arm around him, likely in an attempt to comfort him.

He didn’t want to be comforted. Not now.

“Sometimes, I get glimpses. An excruciating light severing me in pieces. Over and over,” he continued, unable to stop himself. He had to get it out. “I think…. I think I lied to myself for years. I told myself you were there, but you never really were. I wanted so badly for it to be true.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” her voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”

His hands abruptly gripped her shoulders, as if to reassure himself she was truly beneath him – to reassure himself of his own sanity.

“But you’re here now, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, intensely. “I couldn’t protect you before, and I will never let that happen again.”

He loved her too much. It was suffocating at times. He wanted to be everything to her. He wanted to be her partner, her lover, her best friend, her family - her brother, her father, her son. _Everything._ He would be whatever she needed him to be.

But most of all he wanted _her._ In whatever way he could have her.

He _was_ messed up. There were things he didn't know, didn't want to know about himself. He couldn't count or fathom the years of torture he endured. There was only one certainty – that she was fundamentally the most important person to him. Nothing and no one else would ever compare. He revolved and spiraled around her, utterly, into oblivion. She was the sun. She electrified him, burned his insides to a crisp, and brought him back to life each night. The way he loved her wasn't exactly conventional. It was glorious and tempestuous. Selfish and giving all at once. Too complex to unravel or understand. They couldn't be categorized, and it overwhelmed the logical nature of his mind. But somehow....she was clarity.

 _Claire._ Clear. Bright.

Maybe they were not so different. He with his fragmented mind and splintered spirit. She with her scars of broken bones and shadows of drenched blood. He could explore the enigmatic architecture of her body for days and still never understand its intricacies. It was a map that led nowhere and everyone all at once, but each blemish spoke monuments to where she had been. A timeless battlefield. _A Warrior Goddess._

He would slip inside her skin; unite their bodies into one until she was his.

 _His_ Goddess. He would be the God to her Light.

Admired. Respected. Venerated. Eternally _adored._

He ran his fingers along the expanse of her stomach, the bend of her spine, and the soft curve of her smile - a smile that could easily quench night. He couldn't live without her light.

"Electromagnetic radiation," he muttered.

"What was that?" she asked, staring back into his green eyes.

"Light. It's a form of radiant energy. Electromagnetic radiation can be conceptualized as a stream of photons," he was going to say more, but stopped - perhaps now wasn't the time. "I digress. Your name - it's simply fitting, that's all. Fitting for you."

There is not an infinite amount of energy in the universe. It never grows. It can neither be created nor destroyed - simply transformed. Just as there are a finite number of souls. He knew when they died, their souls and spirits would return to the Chaos. Their will, memories, and feelings would meld with the ocean of Chaos and live on forever, but their souls would be given new life by Yeul.

Reincarnation. Energy is limited. It is simply transformed.

But what would happen to them? It was true, their souls would gain new life, but they would be different people. When they died, they would no longer be together. When he died, he would never be with her.

_Ever again._

He let out a shaky breath. This revelation should not have been so harrowing to him, but it was. Suddenly, Hope pressed the full force of his body behind a passionate kiss. His lips fought to own her, his tongue smothering her in a tight embrace. She pushed against him even harder, overcoming the force he applied. Her tongue meshed with his, playfully weaving around his mouth. She bit his lip, eliciting a groan from him that she swallowed with another deep kiss.

He teased her entrance, sliding up and down her wetness before shoving deep into her with one quick motion that left her gasping for air. She clawed at his back, nails roughly digging into his skin, strong enough to leave marks and bruises.

She moaned, rocking against him, meeting his every thrust with her hips, each of them savoring the rhythm. He buried his face in her chest, biting at her breast through the fabric of her tank top, and she groaned louder. The thin fabric wet beneath his mouth as he sucked her nipple swollen through it. Her hands went to his hair, her nails scratching against his scalp.

She needed more of him.

She kissed him roughly. Their tongues shoved against each other as hard as their bodies, their moans melting into each other’s mouths. She trailed her mouth to his neck, biting the tender flesh. The muscles in his shoulders went taut as he drove against her harder.

“Submit to me,” his voice was husky, and he barely even registered the words coming from his mouth – he was so caught up in the feel of his flesh against her flesh, the way her walls tightened around his length with every thrust.

When she stopped moving, he realized what he’d said. He raised his head to look at her, and she met him with a sharp stare.

“This isn’t a battle, Hope,” she rebuked.

He gazed at her intently, taking her wrists with his hands. He raised them beside her head, letting them sink into the mattress with a firm hold.

“It isn’t? You could have fooled me,” he ran his nose along her jaw. “I belong to you. Are you mine?”

He squeezed her wrists lightly, and she furrowed her brow.

“Say it again,” she demanded.

He raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t meant to say it in the first place – it sort of just slipped. It wasn’t exactly romantic. He had to admit, it was even a little disgusting given the source of that particular “line.” It wasn’t romantic or gentlemanly by a long shot. It was savage; barbaric. Asking someone something like that…it wasn’t right. It implied something much more sinister.

“I shouldn’t have-” he began.

“No. You already said it,” she yanked free of his wrists, bringing her hands to his face. “Say it again.”

She held his face between her hands, brushing his cheeks with her thumbs. He was hesitant. Before, he said it in a fit of passion. It was an accident. He felt strange saying something like that to her. But she fixed him with a stubborn gaze.

“Submit to me…?” he said half-heartedly.

She rolled them over so she was on top.

“Say it like you mean it,” she growled. She took control of the situation, rolling her hips against him. Seeing her on top of him made him quiver. She took the bottom of her tank top in her hands and pulled it off, throwing it over the edge of the bed.

She slid a pin from her hair, shaking out the messy bun it was held in. Long, rose-colored locks fell across her shoulders. She smiled down at him, wickedly.

She was clearly trying to kill him.

She mirrored his earlier position, and brought his hands beside his head. She was clenching his wrists much tighter than he had, though. She curved her back, leaning over him. The tips of her hair brushed along his chest and she rolled her hips again. She slid up and down against him, biting her lip to suppress a moan. She closed her eyes, and threw her head back – relishing in the way their bodies fit together as she rocked back and forth. His hands came to rest at her lower back. He liked the sight of her on top, and he tried to urge her on. But she stopped after a moment, and opened her eyes.

“Say it again,” she demanded once more. “Don’t be shy now.”

“I’m not being shy,” he defended.

“You could have fooled me,” she taunted. There was a dangerous glint in her eye, and she slammed his hands back beside his head.

His eyes darted to where she had him pinned down, her hands like steel around his wrists. She flexed, and unflexed – testing her hold - the muscles in her arm rippling.

He still couldn't wrap his head around how fast he became absolute putty in the palm of her hands. He should have expected it. He would do anything for her.

But she was a _devil_. An absolute mischievous brat at times. She became more comfortable, bolder, since their first time. She had no problems provoking him to fulfill her desired ends. He could tell it gave her a sense of satisfaction - the power she had over him.

“You love toying with me,” he accused.

She laughed. He ripped his arms from her grasp, swapping positions with her so fast that her hair caught in her mouth. She spit it out and smiled. She was _gloating._ She tantalizingly scraped her tongue along her bottom lip, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Submit to me,” he snapped.

The mocking sneer she was giving him was extremely infuriating. He grabbed her by the shoulders, his fingers digging hard into her skin. She giggled coquettishly.

“Lightning,” he snarled. “Forfeit.”

“You seem flustered, Mr. Estheim,” she was still giggling - teasing him in false innocence.

She was impossible. It was still taking him time to get used to her unpredictable nature when they were in the bedroom, but if she was so intent on defying him, he would respond in kind to her insolence.

He tangled his hands in her hair and roughly tilted her head back against the pillow. He kissed her ferociously, resuming their private war. She wrapped her legs around his lower back, pushing him deeper inside her. She tore her mouth from his, gasping for air. He was pounding into her, and she was goading him on. She wanted this as much as he did. Maybe even more. She was biting his earlobe, sucking at the tender flesh there and whispering all the ways she wanted him.

He could barely hold it together. She drove him absolutely mad, and she knew it. She liked pushing him to the edge, seeing how much farther she could take him. His thrusts became more erratic, desperate, uneven, trying to keep up with the vicious pace she set. He was moaning her name repeatedly.

_Claire. Claire. Claire._

He looked between them and saw her pleasuring herself with her fingers, coaxing herself over the edge. He let out a loud groan as he watched her. She was smirking at him, knowing exactly the kind of effect it had on him. She was touching herself - caressing and massaging her clit - in the exact same way _he_ taught her.

He closed his eyes, burying himself completely inside her. He grunted in pain when he felt her bite, hard, right above his clavicle and near the crook of his neck. She muffled her scream against his skin, her entire body shaking. She contracted around him, tight, and he followed her over the edge.

***

He wrapped his arm around her, and she scooted closer to him. She put her head against his chest, shifting her body so she was cradled in his arms. They were a mess of sheets and tangled limbs, but completely comfortable and happy in each other’s embrace.

“You can talk to me, you know,” she whispered into his skin. “You don’t need to do that.”

He kissed the top of her head, breathing in her scent. He hugged her tighter.

“Making you feel good makes me feel good,” he said.

“I’m serious, Hope,” she sighed.

“So am I,” he said. “This is all I need.”

When he was with her, he was at peace. He was safe. He was _home._

***

A couple of days later, she was rummaging around in his refrigerator, her annoyance quite clear with every random ‘tch’ noise she made.

“Is something the matter?” It was more of a rhetorical question. It was obvious she was irritated.

“How do you even survive here? You have this giant apartment, and barely anything to eat in your entire kitchen.”

He shrugged, crossing his arms as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“As I told you before, I’m barely even here,” he said. “I’m either at work, and when I’m not at work I’m in my room.”

“Why would you buy such a huge place then?” She shut the fridge, turning to face him.

“It was a good price,” he rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like he was being put on the spot. He liked the extra space, and he assumed he would have a use for it eventually. He didn’t really understand why it was a big deal.

But she scoffed, and gave him a look like she didn’t believe him.

“What?” he linked his arms around her hips, pulling her against him. “Okay, here. How about I order us some take out?”

He smiled down at her. She rolled her eyes, but nodded in acquiescence.

“Don’t give me that look,” he said, tilting her chin up with his finger. “What are the magic words?”

“What are you talking about?”

He laughed when understanding flickered in her eyes, and her expression instantly turned sullen.

“No,” she said flatly.

“Hmm,” he clicked his tongue. “You must not be very hungry then.”

She glared at him for a long while before looking down, hiding her eyes behind rose-colored bangs.

“Meow-meow, choco-chow,” her tone was abysmally deadpan as she hastily got the words out.

She may not have been amused, but he certainly was.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” he swayed them back and forth, laughing at her

“Never again, Hope,” she growled. “I’m serious.”

“But it was so adorable,” he smiled. “You love being a widdle kitty, don’t you?”

He knew he was crossing into – as she would call it – “dangerous ground” by purposely imitating the Chocobo girls at Lightning’s expense. (But, seriously, the expression on her face was too good to pass up.)

She pushed him away from her, hard, into the counter. He coughed, choking on his laughter.

“Just order the damn food,” she said, placing her hand on her hip.

He raised his hands in mock defeat. “Your wish is my command.”

He opened the drawer next to the fridge, setting a menu from a nearby Chinese restaurant on the charcoal granite counter-top. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the number listed.

“Wait, aren’t you going to ask me what I want?!”

She grabbed the menu from the counter as the phone rang in his ear.

“Give me that,” he snatched the menu from her grasp, walking past her to the living room. He ignored her complaints, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he read the menu.

The other line picked up, and recognized his number on their caller ID for delivery. He ordered for both of them. Lightning grumbled (her special way of saying he did well) when the food arrived. He’d ordered pepper steak and steamed rice for her.

He tipped the delivery man, and set the bags on the dining table. Lightning hopped up on the table, and dug around the other bag for chopsticks. She took out the takeout boxes with his orange chicken and steamed rice, and their egg rolls.

He took the chopsticks she handed him, tearing open the package and they both dug into their food. In the midst of chewing, he suddenly realized this was the first meal they’d shared together in his apartment. Usually when she came over, she would have already had dinner at the house she shared with Serah and Snow, and in the mornings he either had to leave for work or she left early. He supposed it didn’t really matter, but he couldn’t help feeling a tad sentimental about it. It was interesting how easily they fell in place with each other – not just when they were working together, but in normal everyday life.

“Light…” he nudged her legs apart and stood in between them. He set his takeout box beside her on the table, momentarily overcome by a bittersweet feeling welling deep in his chest as he watched her.

“Mm?” her mouth was full, but he pressed a kiss against her lips anyway.

She pulled away after a second, chewing and swallowing the remaining food in her mouth.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

“Sorry, does it bother you? I can’t help myself. You’re amazing…” he whispered, running his fingers through the hair framing her face.

She blushed, looking down at her food. He picked his box back up, and was in the middle of trying to shove a piece of orange chicken in her mouth with his chopsticks when her phone began ringing. She reached for her bag and pulled out her cell phone.

“Light! I wanted to make sure you got to Hope’s alright,” he could hear Serah’s voice on the other end.

“Hey, Serah. Yeah, I got here a little while ago. The train was pretty empty,” Lightning replied.

Hope was idly rubbing his hands up and down Lightning’s legs, placing soft kisses against her pulse as he listened to the conversation taking place.

“Hey, sis! Is Hope there?” Hope recognized Snow’s voice. Serah must have had Lightning on speaker. Lightning dropped the phone from her ear and put speaker on.

“I’m here,” Hope spoke into the phone. “How are you two doing?”

“We never see you, Hope!” Serah said. “I was thinking how nice it would be if you came by for dinner.”

“That’s a great idea. It’s been too long, kid!” Snow chimed in.

Hope rolled his eyes, he was technically older than Snow but he would always call him “kid” regardless.

“I would love to, Serah,” Hope glanced up at Lightning, but her expression was blank.

“Good! Then it’s settled. Lightning’s always getting you all to herself,” Serah laughed, her tone teasing.

Lightning’s face instantly turned red, her grip slightly tightening on the cell phone. _Wait, she still hasn’t told Serah about us?_

“When do you want me to come by?” Hope carried on the conversation. Lightning shot him a look, but he ignored her.

He was a little irritated to be honest. Serah was the most important person to Lightning, and it bothered him greatly that she still refused to talk to Serah about their budding relationship. Before, Hope told himself that he wouldn’t let it get to him if Lightning chose to wait, but he was realizing he might not be able to hold to that. He knew it had only been a few weeks, but Lightning was kidding herself if she thought Serah and Snow didn’t have their suspicions. She visited him nearly every single weekend, and stayed the night. He had a guest room, so there was a valid excuse, but Hope knew how perceptive Serah was. Lightning was putting off the inevitable.

“What about this weekend?” Serah asked.

There was the sound of papers being moved on the other line, and Serah called back to Snow. “Snow, did you hear that? This weekend works, right?”

“Yeah!” Snow called back.

“Then, it’s a date,” Hope gave Lightning a slightly smug look as he spoke.

She picked her takeout back up and chowed down on it, pretending to ignore him.

***

Serah was looking at her planner, chewing on a pen in her mouth as she flipped back and forth between the calendar’s pages.

“Snow,” she called to him in the next room. “Noel and Yeul are coming back early from their trip with Vanille and Fang, right?”

“I think so, yeah,” he walked into the living room and plopped down next to her, pulling her into his chest as he did so.

“Then we could have the wedding the week after Vanille and Fang get back,” she hummed for a moment. “So, a month and a half from now.”

She turned to him and smiled. They were finally going to be married. In just one month (and a half), they would finally get the wedding they waited so long for.

For the first few months after they arrived their tight-knight group stayed close together as they adjusted to this new reality. Eventually, they parted ways. Vanille and Fang went off to see other parts of the world and Noel and Yeul decided to go with them for at least part of the journey - with the four promising to be back soon. Sazh and Dajh were still close; they lived in the same area as Snow, Serah, and Lightning. Serah wanted to stay in a smaller town so the three of them purchased a home in the countryside and Serah took up teaching again.

Hope, on the other hand, lived and worked about an hour and thirty minutes from them in the administrative district downtown. Lightning had been considering looking for work in that area since there wasn’t a lot of variety in positions where they lived. Recently, Serah was beginning to notice she’d been spending more and more time with Hope. It wasn’t necessarily strange - she knew they’d always been very close, but she was looking forward to their dinner because she felt like she hadn’t seen Hope in ages.

“That sounds great, babe,” Snow said.

She made a squealing noise in delight, and hugged Snow.

“You’re my hero, you know that?” she laughed, placing a kiss to his lips.

Serah heard the door open and shut; Lightning was back from the market with a few groceries.

“Sis,” Serah rushed to the front door, taking Lightning’s hands in her own. “Okay, don’t be mad.”

She looked at her seriously, and Lightning drew back – taking her expression into consideration.

“Why would I be mad?” she asked, hesitant.

Serah must have looked like a scolded child because Lightning suddenly followed up the question with, “Serah….what did you do?”

“Okay, I know it was just supposed to be the four of us tonight for dinner, but I ended up inviting someone else from work. I’m trying to branch out, you know, get to know more of the other teachers at my school.”

“And what’s the big deal?” Lightning looked confused now.

“Well,” she paused, slightly fearing her sister’s reaction. “I might’ve accidentally mentioned I also had a single…attractive…sister,” she stammered.

There was definitely no mistaking the way Lightning’s face went to utter shock in the span of half a second.

“You did what?!”

***

Hope felt his phone vibrating in his pocket; he slid it out and saw Lightning’s face looking back at him. He smiled, remembering when he took the picture. She was sleeping in it, a slight smile on her face. He had taken it a few days ago when he woke up in the middle of the night. He returned from the bathroom and found her cuddled up against his pillow thinking it was his body. She looked so…. _sweet_ , which was rare for Lightning.

He pressed the touch screen, answering her call.

“Ligh-“ he started.

“Hope, don’t come over,” she was hissing, he could barely even understand her she was speaking so low.

“What? Light, I took the train instead of driving. I just got off. I will be there soon,” he sighed and hung up the phone. He knew she didn’t want Serah to know about their relationship yet, but she was acting downright childish now.

Serah, Snow, and Lightning shared a small home on the outskirts of the main market town. It was only a little ways from the train station so he called for a cab.

The area Serah chose to settle down in was a slow-moving place, unfettered by the noise and din that came from city living. He could understand why she chose it. There was a gentle rhythm to the rural lifestyle here that was missing from the downtown district he lived in. He absent-mindedly watched as the lush landscape passed by through the passenger side window. Fields upon fields dotted with red poppies amidst seas of wild grass, just barely illuminated by the darkening sky.

Before long, the taxi was pulling into the narrow graveled driveway of Lightning’s house. He paid the fare and thanked the driver before heading up the path. There was a faint fruity aroma in the air that was impossible to miss– the entire northern region where they lived was known for its vineyard and wine production. Their aged-brick home was adorned in rich greenery that went around the window shutters, and they were surrounded by hills of rolling vegetation and wildflowers. Hope remembered Snow even sheared Serah a small hedge maze in the garden out back much to his amusement. Essentially, it was everything Serah could have ever wanted – the picturesque postcard setting most people only dream about. Hope sometimes wondered if it was what _Lightning_ wanted though. Then again, he knew whatever made Serah happy was bound to make Lightning happy as well.

He climbed the small stone steps to the large mahogany front door and knocked, and was almost immediately greeted by Serah’s beaming face.

“Hope!” she pulled him into a hug, squeezing tight. “Come in! Come in!”

She stepped back, allowing him to enter the house. As she shut the door, he walked into their living room and was a little taken back when he saw Lightning sitting in a chair at their kitchen table, engaged in a discussion with a man he didn’t recognize. He thought it was going to just be the four of them.

Lightning turned her head and gave him a stiff, curt nod. That probably should have been the first sign that something was clearly amiss, but he wasn’t given much time to reflect on it when Snow surprised him and yanked him into a giant bear hug.

“Kid! It’s been too long!” he ruffled Hope’s hair.

Hope coughed, being crushed half to death by Snow’s hug. Snow must have realized because he made an apologetic noise and released his grip. Hope extricated himself, hastily straightening his tie and wrinkled jacket.

“Hello, Snow,” Hope chuckled.

It was hard not to be content when greeted with Snow’s positive attitude. It was something he lacked for a long time when Serah died.

“Ready to be my best man?” Snow patted him on the back, grinning like an idiot.

Hope laughed. “Yes, have you decided on a date yet?”

“One month from today! Err, I mean month and a half!” Serah chimed in from the kitchen, busy checking on the dinner’s progress.

“I’m very happy for you two,” Hope said.

It was nice to see them together again. It wasn’t easy for Snow during the 500 years he was apart from Serah, and they were finally going to have the wedding they wanted. He truly was happy for them. Snow suddenly pushed him further into the room, hand still on his back.

“Oh, almost forgot! This is James, a friend of Serah’s,” Snow said.

Lightning crossed her arms, awkwardly, and the man stood to introduce himself to Hope. He was tall, a bit taller than Hope was, with short dark brown hair and brown eyes. He was wearing khaki-colored pants and a vest. Hope held out his hand.

“Hello, my name is Hope,” he said, courteously.

James extended his hand, shaking Hope’s. “James. Nice to meet you,” he replied.

Hope was about to greet Lightning, he was rather confused by her aloof behavior, when Serah called his name and asked him to come to the kitchen.

Hope crossed the room, going around the kitchen island to find the petite Farron sister.

“Hey,” Hope began, quietly. “Do you know why Light’s acting so weird?”

Serah was crushing garlic on a cutting board, and adding it to the frying pan.

“What do you mean?” she asked, preoccupied with grabbing the tongs and flipping the sirloin steaks over.

Then, as if she remembered why she called him to the kitchen, she continued speaking.

“Right, sorry! I didn’t mean to drop this on you guys. I’m just trying to get to know more of the faculty at my school. James is another teacher there. I mentioned I was having friends over for dinner tonight and he seemed interested, so I invited him. The more the merrier, I thought!”

Hope was still puzzled how any of that explained Light’s strange behavior, but he didn’t want to press the matter. Lightning was already acting off on the phone, probably because she still hadn’t talked to Serah about their “relationship.” He just didn’t expect her to be acting so stand-offish when he arrived.

“No need to apologize,” Hope replied.

Hope leaned against their counter and watched Serah cut off slices of butter with a knife, dropping it in the pan and basting the steaks with it.

“Oooh, actually,” she began, picking up the pan and tilting it so the butter would melt and spread evenly over the steaks. “She’s probably acting weird because I mentioned to her that I happened to tell James I had a single sister. She freaked out; even though I told her it wasn’t a big deal. I wasn’t trying to set her up, but…oops,” Serah laughed.

Hope's eyes widened a bit at Serah’s disclosure. He involuntarily turned his head in the direction of the table they were seated at, and a sharp spike of jealousy pierced him as he watched this other man regale Lightning with an apparently funny story. Hope pursed his lips when Lightning laughed.

At least, he assumed it was jealousy. During his lifetime, he never gave or had a lot of time for personal relationships. During school, there were a few crushes, but nothing serious. The last time he remembered feeling envious of someone was when he realized they scored higher marks on a test than him. That was back when he was hastily trying to get through school and skipping grades to prove his worth so he could join the Academy. His competitive edge dulled a bit when he became Director, as there wasn’t much left for him to compete over when he was in charge of operations. It was an irrational and immature feeling - he knew this - but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling it. He heaved an irritated sigh, and got out of Serah’s way when she reached for the cabinet above his head. He quickly realized she wasn’t going to be able to reach it, so he opened it and she directed him to the salt and pepper shakers.

“I don’t know why Snow insists on moving things, not everyone is a giant like him,” she grumbled, taking the shakers from Hope.

Serah and Snow set the table, and called the rest of them to take a seat. Serah went back to the kitchen with Snow, and Hope could hear a clattering of food being moved. Hope took a seat next to Lightning, and Serah’s guest took a seat across from Lightning at the table.

Hope leaned over to Lightning, lowering his voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

He decided to ignore her blatant lie. The last thing he wanted was to be peeved during Serah’s dinner. She didn’t deserve his bad mood. Hope picked up the napkin from his plate, unfolding it and placing it in his lap. Serah came out with the opening course, a light salad, and poured iced ruby red hibiscus sweet tea in their glasses. Hope and Lightning kept quiet, both of them eating as they listened to Serah and Snow talk to James. Serah brought up his classes, they discussed some of the other faculty and how their lessons were coming along.

After they finished eating, Serah cleared their salad plates and brought out their main course – steak with golden baked potatoes. Lightning perked up a bit when the steak arrived, taking a drink of her iced tea before she began cutting into it. Hope recalled that she still owed him steak. In fact, he was still a bit sad he would never be able to try her Behemoth steak. Perhaps they could try to find an alternative to it, though. With his right hand, Hope picked up his knife and took his fork in his left and began cutting pieces of the steak. He placed small mouthfuls in his mouth, savoring the taste.

“So, how long have you all known each other?” James asked, but he was pointedly looking at Hope and Lightning.

Hope swallowed, placing his fork and knife down on the side of his plate before he picked up his glass and took a sip of tea.

“A _looong_ time,” he said, setting the glass back down.

Lightning side-eyed him, and he glanced back at her. It’s not like he was being rude. What did she expect him to say? _Yes, I met her a thousand years ago!_

“I’ve known Claire since I was a kid,” Hope continued, trying to appease Lightning.

“Childhood friends?” James took a bite of his baked potato.

“You…could say that,” Hope answered in a bit of a devious manner, not sure how else to explain their complicated relationship.

“Oh, that’s nice. Serah and I started teaching at the school around the same time, so I take it we’re all around the same age then?” James asked.

“No,” Hope replied, flatly.

He was chronologically around 500 years older than Snow and Lightning, nearing 1000 years older than Serah. Physically, he was also still the eldest. An awkward silence fell over the table at Hope’s rather brusque and curt answer. It effectively cut off all conversation, and James shifted awkwardly in his chair, unsure of what he said wrong. Snow chanced a brief peek at Hope, a slightly amused expression on his face – as if he knew exactly what was going on. However, Lightning narrowed her eyes at him, clearly put off by his lack in decorum.

“Uh,” Serah interjected the uncomfortable exchange. “So, do you guys like the steak?!”

Lightning and Snow nodded with mouths full, in approval.

“It’s great! Thank you again for the invitation,” James said as took another bite.

“It’s excellent, Serah,” Hope replied. “Thank you.”

She smiled brightly, cutting into her steak again.

Later on during the meal, Hope’s nose wrinkled in disdain when he noticed James set his elbows on the table as he was talking - somewhat wondering whether or not the man was raised in a barn. (It wasn't a formal dinner by any means. Snow was doing the same, but Hope didn't care about what Snow did.) As Hope watched the dark-haired man eat and talk with Snow, he started to calculate in passing just how much a regular teacher’s salary could afford...

Hope began to slice into his steak again, enough for two bites, and absent-mindedly turned the knife over in his hand, measuring the sharpness. It was fairly sharp. It could be sharper, but stabbing someone takes quite little force if you know where to strike to avoid bone and hard cartilage. Severing a person's jugular vein would cause an air embolism. Air would enter their bloodstream and they would collapse almost instantaneously after one or two gasps. If you also severed their carotid artery, well, they definitely wouldn't be standing up again, but on the downside there would be quite a lot of blood. Hope suddenly shook his head, a bit baffled as to why this knowledge was coming back to him now. He took another bite of the steak, listening in mild interest to a story Snow was telling. He glanced at Lightning, but she placed her hand beside her face, slightly blocking his view as she listened to Snow. Hope rolled his eyes.

“Are we ready for desert?” Serah asked, looking at the empty plates. “Snow, can you get the dishes, I’m going to go grab the cake.”

“Cake?” Hope asked, looking at Lightning. He knocked her with his shoulder, playfully. “Did you pick it out? I know you love sweets.”

Lightning shot him another look, and he felt her foot hit his ankle underneath the table.

“Stop trying to play footsie with me,” he whispered to her in a sarcastic, hushed tone.

She glared at him with such a marvelously incensed scowl on her face that he half-expected she was considering murder-knifing _him._ When he reached over and placed his hand on her leg beneath the table, he was almost positive she was going to die then and there. She immediately lowered her eyes, blushing bright red, and nearly crushed his hand into dust. He pulled back, trying to shake out the pain. Serah and Snow came back a moment later with desert – molten chocolate cake. Each of them got a small slice.

Hope wasn’t wrong. Lightning devoured hers right away.

***

As Serah said goodbye to James, and showed him to the door, Hope excused himself from the table. Snow was in the kitchen putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, so he didn’t notice when Hope grabbed Lightning’s arm and led her out the back door. She jerked away from him when they were safely outside, practically knocking him back.

“What the hell is going on, Lightning?” his tone was harsher than he intended.

He was angry. Of course he was angry. How else should he be feeling after that terrible excuse of a charade? None of this would have happened if she just told Serah. Was she truly that ashamed of their relationship that it had to reach this point?

“What did you expect me to do? She ambushed me with this the second I got home. I couldn’t explain things to her when the guy walked through the door not five minutes later.”

“This wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you just _told_ her,” he snapped.

"I'm not a Goddess, Hope," she said. "I'm just a person. I’m not perfect."

“What are you talking about?” Hope asked, exasperated.

He never claimed she was perfect. He certainly never said she wasn’t a person. Better yet, what did that even have to do with their current situation?

“Sometimes when you look at me, it’s like…you can’t tell the difference,” she said, quietly.

He hesitated for a moment, her confession startling him, and he momentarily forgot his anger. He knew when Lightning was overwhelmed she had a tendency to lash out - to put up walls – but he thought they were past this. He thought she knew she could trust him.

“No, that’s not true. You _know_ that isn’t true. The only possible reason you could have for saying something so absurd is because you’re trying to pull away from me – from us,” he took a step toward her as he spoke.

He reached for her hand, but she avoided him by placing them behind her back. His heart sank, and a palpable sadness gathered in his chest when he saw her empty, expressionless eyes staring back at him.

“Light…” his voice wavered, nearly breaking. “I love you. _I love you._ Because I know _you._ I know your heart. I know you aren’t perfect, but no matter how far away you think you are from me, I will continue to reach out to you. Please, just trust me. Believe in what we have.”

***

He didn’t see her for two weeks. He tried to sleep the first night, but when he woke in a cold sweat seeing ghosts and she wasn’t there he broke down. It was better not to sleep. It was worse when she wasn’t here.

He never considered himself needy, or even someone that required that kind of physical presence from other people. He was a self-sufficient person, and he knew he could make it on his own. He was by himself for many, many years. Only, he felt _emptier_ now. Waking up alone, in the dark, a suffocating feeling in his chest, and a choking sensation in his throat…it was different than waking up in her protective arms. It was often said no one truly knew what they had until it was gone, but he knew this lesson all too well. He experienced it many times during his long lifespan. _Too many_ , he thought bitterly, his thoughts lingering on the mother he could not save.

The insomnia was both a blessing and a curse. He was no stranger to staying up late into the night and locking himself away, shutting out everything but his work. He could avoid the nightmares and waking up alone this way, but it was wearing him ragged. On the flip side, the insomnia allowed him time to get the majority of his work done for the Institute of Engineering and Systems Sciences. He was expecting a promotion soon, which would both lessen his workload, and allow him time to focus on more important projects. As a technician, the things he was doing now were dreadfully easy, but time-consuming nonetheless. After being exposed to the technology of not only Cocoon, but devising new technology for Gran Pulse, and being alive for so long and traveling to different time periods, it was quite a simple feat for him to learn the scientific principles governing this new world.

_Boring, really._

He was surely never going to top the achievement of designing a planet over the course of centuries, and watching it being lifted into the air. But, there were still new things to learn, and new inventions to be discovered. There were definitely architectural things he wanted to improve upon, and he could only begin submitting these plans and working toward these goals if he was promoted quickly. Once all of his work was complete, though, he found himself thinking of _her_ , and that just wouldn’t do. He began mindlessly finding new tasks to complete, things that he could modify, improve, refine. Anything to keep his mind busy. He ended up rebuilding his entire computer, and an additional one, (who knows, maybe Lightning would need one) but that only took him the span of a single night.

So, he set his sights on developing an artificial intelligence system to control various functions for his penthouse. He briefly considered amping its processing power up and giving it a functional unit, but decided against it when he remembered how well that worked out in the past in Augusta Tower. Though, that was primarily due to the Proto fal’Cie Adam’s interference, not the A.I of the Tower. It would actually be good to have an information processing facility like they did for the Academy....

He sighed, abandoning this train of thought. He didn’t want to deal with Serah yelling at him again. Better to be safe than sorry.

Eventually, as the week dragged on, all the tedious, repetitive projects in the world simply couldn’t keep him from missing her. One morning, as he dressed in front of the mirror, he noticed the dark shape above his collarbone - the bite mark he'd been covering for several weeks with collared shirts. He stared at it, as if he was seeing it for the first time, and an acute melancholy came over him as he examined the wound, feeling it with his fingers and tracing the indents. It was _her_ doing. He remembered that night vividly. She soothed him, assuaging all his fears when he woke up. He blinked rapidly, tearing his eyes away from the mirror, and pulled his shirt on, disregarding the growing yearning in the pit of his heart.

Three days later, she came to him in the middle of the night. Loud repetitive knocking against his penthouse door. When he opened it, she simply stared at him, taking in his tousled appearance and the dark lines under his bloodshot eyes. Her face fell, replaced by an anguished expression, and she awkwardly wrung her hands, opening and closing her mouth as if she didn’t know quite what to say. Suddenly, she flew into his arms – hugging him tight. He didn’t know how long they stood in silence in his doorway, their arms wrapped around each other.

She led him by hand to the bedroom, sitting him down. Then, slowly, she pressed his body back against the mattress. She lay on top of him, and kissed him everywhere. She started at his forehead, went down his cheek, his jaw, his neck, his collarbone, his shoulders, his arms, and then she trailed the expanse of his stomach. He tried to speak, but she silenced him with a single finger to his lips. Her eyes said she was sorry. That she shouldn’t have left. That she was just afraid. And then she kissed him, slow, sensual, and soft. She kissed him and he knew – he knew she loved him. She didn’t need to say it. He felt it. He felt her selfishness, her loneliness, and her fear mingled with that kiss. He felt her soul, he felt her give him everything that she couldn’t accept before. He felt it in the way she held him, the way she clung possessively to his body.

As if he was hers, and no one else’s. _Selfishness._

As if he might disappear if she let go. _Loneliness._

As if she couldn’t bear to face her own shadow. _Fear._

Their hearts beat against each other’s chest, their feet tangled together in the sheets, and she never looked away from his eyes – even when she pulled him on top of her. She took his hands in hers, interlocking their fingers. His throat went dry as he felt her warmth against his body. He missed her more than he realized. She must have felt the same. She brought their interlocked hand to her mouth, kissing the back of his skin there.

And she made love to him.

 _All_ of her.

***

“I won’t leave you alone again,” she said.

They were staring into each other’s eyes, their bodies still connected - legs and arms wrapped around one another. She brushed his hair away from his eyes, tucking it behind his ear.

“You never left,” he kissed her parted lips, breathing the words against her mouth. “You were always here.”

They traced gentle touches against each other’s faces.

“Do you ever wonder,” he began after a moment, “what will happen to us when we die?”

She furrowed her brow, finding his question a bit strange if he had to guess. “You know what happens. Our souls will return to the Chaos.”

“Yes, I know the logistics of how it takes place. I suppose the results are what alarm me,” he rolled onto his back, pulling her form on top of his as he did. “I take it you’ve never wondered what would happen after we’re reincarnated?”

“It’s the natural order of the world, Hope. It’s something I fought to protect for centuries. I’ve never really had a reason to question it,” she rolled onto her stomach over his chest so she could look him in the eyes. “Why are you asking about this? Is something wrong?”

He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders and kissed her on the forehead.

“It’s nothing, just extraneous thoughts. I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” he replied.

She sighed, deciding not to press the matter further. She let the full weight of her body drop on top of his, and he wrapped his arms around her lower back. She nuzzled into his neck, their foreheads touching as they fell asleep.


	2. Braided

Another €250 dress shirt down the drain. He wondered how many times she was going to do this. The last time, he grabbed her hands, holding them tight when she tried to jerk away. He tried to tell her, politely, to take his clothes off like a normal person – after all, the buttons were there for a reason! She simply scoffed, yanked her hands from him and proceeded to destroy his shirt anyways. Buttons went flying, and a dejected sigh escaped his lips. She was quite pleased, though. (He had a feeling there would be an entirely different expression on her face if he actually told her how much money she was costing him.)

“Light,” he groaned in protest.

His shirt was already ruined, but that wasn’t the issue. He could just buy another one. Online shopping was far less time-consuming than taking them to a tailor to get re-sewn. Not to mention, he had no desire to hunt down the buttons. The last thing he wanted to do was admit this, least of all to her, but…. she was wearing him out. They didn’t see each other for a few days between each weekend, but when they did, all she wanted to do was have sex.

He could barely keep up with her stamina. Given she still lived with Serah and Snow, he was at least afforded some downtime, but in between her and the extra long hours he’d been putting in at the Institute, he was stretching himself thin. He needed a break. He just wanted to relax, but she wanted more, and he was never one to deny her whatever she wanted.

She pushed him down onto the plush leather of his living room sofa. Her hands went to his tie, undoing it and sliding it from collar of his open shirt. She pushed his shirt off and ran her hands along his shoulders, rubbing his arms.

He couldn’t help but feel slightly aroused with her sitting on top of him, nevertheless his exhaustion was winning. He tried to fight it, but he was mentally and physically fatigued. His eyes were closing shut, and each time his head began to fall he had to snap them back open. She was trailing kisses down his chest, and gently nipping at the flesh of his collarbone, so she didn’t notice his weariness.

He just couldn’t help it though. Her light, gentle kisses were soothing, and his hands went limp against her back. His head tilted against the back of the sofa’s headrest, and within moments he was gone.

***

Lightning pulled away from Hope, wondering why he wasn’t making much of an effort to do anything. She was a little surprised to see his head drooping down. His closed eyes were covered by a section of his pale bangs, and his breathing was soft. He actually fell asleep on her?!

“Hope,” she whispered, hesitant to wake him.

No response. He really was out.

She carefully pushed his bangs away from his eyes. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. His white hair feathered around his face like angel’s wings, and his serene expression made him look younger than his 27 years. He really was beautiful – in a different way than most men were. There was a kind of prettiness to his facial features and his strong jaw that most others didn’t have. She smiled, overcome by a sense of profound affection. Slowly, trying not to wake him, she extricated herself from his lap. He shifted a little, and she gently guided him down so he was lying on the sofa. Suddenly, as she looked at his sleeping form, she was reminded of the exhausted young boy she watched sleep in the Vile Peaks a thousand years ago. The young boy she met in Lake Bresha. The young boy she was impatient with and even cruel to at first. The young boy she stood shoulder to shoulder with against Odin. The young boy she watched grow into a man and leader from Valhalla.

Hope Estheim. Her partner, her confidante, her best friend. It was strange, yet fitting how things worked themselves out.

She knelt beside the couch and cautiously removed his shoes, careful not to disturb him. Though, she was beginning to realize that probably wouldn’t be a problem. He was sleeping quite soundly. Was she tiring him out? She wondered why he didn’t say anything before. _Hmph, all that office work has probably made him soft._ He was 6 years older than her, but that wasn’t exactly an excuse. She set his shoes beside the sofa, and placed a kiss to his forehead.

“Don’t worry,” she murmured to his sleeping form, brushing her thumb across his smooth cheek. “We’ll toughen you up.”

***

He woke to the aroma of sizzling bacon. His eyes slowly opened, and he saw he was in the living room. A blanket was covering him, and his shoes weren’t on anymore.

_Oh no…_

Had he really fallen asleep while she was on top of him?

He stood up, stretching his arms and worked out the kink in his neck. Lightning was in the kitchen, dressed in only her panties and one of his long sleeve white dress shirts. (He also tried to explain to her at one point that while she loved ripping them apart, if she succeeded in ruining all of them then she would never be able to wear them around his apartment. Of course, she still didn’t take his suggestions seriously.)

“Uh, morning,” he said, sheepishly. He ran his hand through his disheveled locks, looking at her back as she bent over the stove.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“Yes, sorry about last night…” he began.

“You mean falling asleep on me right in the middle of making out?” She turned around, one hand on her hip and spatula in the other.

She was smiling, a teasing air about her tone. He breathed a sigh of relief and walked around the kitchen island, kissing her on the cheek.

“Hey, next time I won’t be so forgiving,” she flicked him on the forehead.

Turning back to the stove, she flipped the bacon over with the spatula. His kitchen had become more stocked since Lightning was around more. In fact, most of the penthouse began to look more lived in. She gradually began leaving her things at his place, and when they were out in the city she would sometimes see things she thought would look nice in the apartment so he would buy them. There was definitely more of a “Lightning touch” in his apartment now. It was nice. It made him feel like he was coming _home_ , rather than just a bed to sleep in. The artwork in his living room, the vases on the counters, and knick knacks on his coffee table all reminded him of her.

He opened the cabinet above Lightning's head, and pulled out a tea tin. She was finishing up on the stove, scraping the eggs and bacon onto separate plates before depositing the dirty dishes in the sink. He took her place in front of the stove, setting the tea kettle on a burner and putting the temperature at 40°C. Lightning opened the fridge and handed him bottled water. She must have become used to this ritual of his. He drank Gyokuro green tea almost every morning. He felt a weird sense of pride at how... _domestic_ they'd become. He wasn't sure if she even noticed.

She placed their plates on the textured glass dining room table, and took a seat. He followed her, waiting on the water to finish boiling. They sat next to each other, eating in silence. She told him before she wasn’t as good of a cook as Serah, but he didn’t have many complaints. (Well, there was that one "incident." He was grateful she had quick reflexes.)

“I think you should move in,” he said abruptly.

She stopped chewing, a piece of bacon still hanging partway out of her mouth as she gave him an incredulous look. The kettle began whistling, so he was spared this momentary awkwardness as he went back into the kitchen to steep the tea.

“You mean that?” she asked from her seat.

He had to wait 2-3 minutes for the tea, so he went back to the dining room.

“Of course I mean it. I wouldn’t ask otherwise,” he took a seat beside her. “You’re already here all the time. You said you wanted to find work downtown. It makes sense. I want you here, Light. With me.”

He took her hands in his and interlocked their fingers.

“Please, say yes.”

***

Serah knocked on the wood door softly. Lightning came home a little while ago, but she barely said two words to her or Snow and locked herself in her room.

“Sis, can I come in?” Serah said behind the door.

Serah knew her sister well. Whenever Lightning was upset about something, she would barricade herself in her room and try to ignore it. It was one of the ways she processed things, but it sometimes meant she shut others out as well. Lightning opened the door, and poked her head through – scanning the area.

“It’s just me,” Serah laughed. Lightning probably didn’t want Snow butting in.

Lightning nodded and let her inside. Serah plopped down on the bed and fixed her sister with a serious stare.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Serah asked.

She wasn’t oblivious. After that extremely awkward dinner with Hope, she and Snow were positive their relationship had finally passed the “friendship” stage. Lightning crossed her arms over her chest, protectively.

“It’s…nothing,” she huffed.

“Spill,” Serah gave her a stern look.

“Hope asked me to move in with him,” the words tumbled out of her sister’s mouth.

Serah raised an eyebrow. _This is what she’s so worried about?_

“I don’t know how to just…be,” Lightning clenched and unclenched her fist, staring at her hand. “I always had a mission. When I was in Valhalla, I made a choice to fight. When I failed, I swore to bring you back. I’ve always been able to make these choices, but now….I don’t know where I fit anymore.”

Serah watched her sister struggle to explain her feelings. For a long time, their relationship was strained. Lightning closed so much of herself off when their mother died, believing she had to be strong. They grew apart, but Serah never blamed her. She always knew her sister loved her, even when she couldn’t show it - even after their lives spiraled out of control. Now, in this new world they had a chance at a fresh start. A chance to be sisters again _. Together._

“I don’t know if I can do it. I’ve made so many mistakes in the past. I regret not trusting you, I regret how I reacted when I found out about you and Snow, I regret…so much,” Lightning’s voice dropped. “I tried so hard to shelter you. I was destructive, angry, and… sometimes, it makes me wonder if I’m even _capable_ of love.”

“Sit,” Serah patted the spot next to her on the bed.

Lightning sat, heaving a deep sigh as she did so. Serah began to comb her sister’s hair with her fingers, undoing the tangles.

“Remember when mom died?” Serah asked. Lightning gave a barely imperceptible nod, stiffening a little.

“You changed after that. You vowed to take care of me, and you weren’t just my sister anymore. You were more. You were my guardian – my mother,” Serah paused. “You used to wear your hair just like mine, remember?”

Lightning turned her head to look at her, a sorrowful expression crossing her features.

“I remember...” she whispered.

“When mom died, you changed everything. Even your hair. You said there just wasn’t any room for you to be a kid anymore. It upset me so much that I made a promise to myself,” Serah paused, her hands going still. “I fixed my hair just like you used to wear yours, and I never changed it, because I didn’t want that part of you to disappear forever.”

“Serah…” Lightning looked back at her again, tears welling up in her eyes.

“It’s okay, Claire,” Serah reassured her.

Serah pulled the hair tie from her hair, undoing her side-ponytail. She resumed her hands, combing through her sister’s rose-colored locks. She made a small braid in the left side of Lightning’s hair and tied it off with her hair tie.

“I don’t want you to be alone anymore,” Serah hugged her sister around the shoulders from behind.

“But I have you now,” Lightning said. “Isn’t that what we’ve been fighting for?”

“And you always will, but what I mean is I want you to have the same thing I have with Snow. I want you to have someone just like I do, and I don’t want you to be lonely,” Serah turned Lightning so she was facing her, and took both her hands in hers.

“You have that. With Hope. I see it in the way he looks at you, and the way you gravitate to him. You two - you understand each other. There’s something that connects you in the same way there’s something that connects Snow and me. Anyone who was even in the same room with you would see it. You _deserve_ to have that.”

Lightning was crying now. She was quiet, but Serah saw each solitary tear fall from her eye.

“I’m not your little girl anymore, sis. We made it. We’re here. All of us. We’re a family. I told you - I can fight too. I can take care of you too, and that’s what I’m doing,” Serah pulled Lightning into her arms, holding her sister close as she cried against her shoulder.

“You don’t have to be strong anymore,” Serah gave her a gentle squeeze.

***

Lightning returned the next day, unclipping her bag and setting it on the floor as she quietly shut the penthouse door. He gave her a key after the suggestion, simply telling her to think it over, but they didn’t talk about his offer again. The living room was dimly lit - save for a single standing lamp near a small table in the corner of the room. She found him there, thoroughly engrossed in a book, sitting in dark grey jeans with one leg crossed over the other - his posture verging on being annoyingly perfect. She internally cursed, hating the fact that even in casual clothing he looked so _neat_ and refined. The black v-neck sweater he wore clung to his lean frame, accentuating his shoulders and revealing the soft skin at his collarbone. She noticed a small, dark shape peeking out from the crook of his neck, suddenly realizing it was where she bit him at.

_It still hasn’t healed…_

She never even realized she bit him that hard and was rather surprised she didn’t draw blood if it left a mark that noticeable. In retrospect, she probably shouldn’t have done that. She didn’t want to hurt him, after all. It just happened, though, almost on instinct. When they were together, sometimes she felt so connected to him – like she knew exactly what he was thinking and vice versa – that it startled her. They’d always been like that, to an extent, but ever since she saved his soul from Bhunivelze and reached out to his mind – it was like they were on a different level. Their minds were linked together in ways she couldn’t begin to understand. She was staring at the crescent-moon shaped bite in rapt interest – completely absorbed with watching _him_ in wonder – marveling at the way his shoulders rose and fell by a single degree as he breathed in and out, the way his long fingers pushed stray pieces of his hair from his eyes when he shifted in the chair and brought his elbows up to the table.

“Hope…” she breathed his name.

He looked up from his book, surprised to see her standing near the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Light, I never even heard you come in,” he said, politely, closing the book and standing from his seated position.

She held up her hand, indicating he should stay put. He raised an eyebrow and shifted his body weight to his right leg, crossing his arms as he leveled her with a serious look - like he expected her to explain her behavior.

“I love you,” she whispered, lowering her gaze – afraid to look him in the eye.

His lack of response sent a chill through her. The resounding silence coiled around her, filling the space of the room like invisible and suffocating smoke, until all she could concentrate on was the racing of her noisy heart.

“I know,” he said, after a moment, matching the pitch of her voice.

 _He knows?_ How could he know that? She thought…she thought she never expressed her feelings clear enough. She tried to, but always felt like she fell short.

“You always have. Maybe not in the way you do now, but I knew the first time you threw your arms around me and we vowed to protect each other.”

She raised her eyes at his statement, remembering their thousand year-old promises to one another. He knew her so well; there was no reason for her to ever doubt that he understood her even when she didn’t completely understand herself at times. She motioned for him to walk towards her with her index finger. He stepped toward her, slow, steady paces, until he reached her and cupped her chin with his hand, bringing his lips to hers. She slipped her hand beneath the snug sweater he was wearing, feeling the warmth of his skin against her cold hands, and pulled him against her. She tilted her head, deepening their kiss, allowing his tongue entrance. His mouth tasted sweet and mellow, like the tea he drank - rich in umami.

She guided his body back, her nails digging into the bones of his waist. He hit the wall with a thud, their mouths never leaving each other. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in the back of his hair. Her tongue softly grazed along his lower lip, savoring the sweetness - a direct contrast to the demanding way he ravished her mouth with building tension. His hands gripped her thigh, hiking her leg up around his body, his actions mirroring the urgency behind his kiss. No matter what, it was like he could never get enough of her. Every time it was like it was their first, as if he’d never been inside her before – as if he wanted to prove no one would ever love her the way he did.

She broke their kiss, and tried pulling his sweater over his head in one quick motion. It got caught on the way between his arms and neck, and they both laughed. She finally managed to pull it off, and when his face was free again he swapped their positions – pressing her body flush against the wall. His hands went to her white top, and _tore._ Her mouth opened in a shocked gasp, looking at the ruined fabric with missing buttons. She narrowed her eyes when she saw him _smirking_ at her.

“Hope!” she yelped.

It was clearly payback for all the shirts of his that she ruined. However, being on the receiving end of it was not fun. He chuckled at her shocked face – a light, airy laugh that made her blush.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he said.

His hands went to her back, deftly undoing the clasp of her bra. Her clothes piled on the floor. Each time she was naked in front of him, it was an ecstatic, terrifying, and ultimately vulnerable process. If it were anyone else, she didn’t believe she would ever feel as comfortable. But he was her partner. He would always have her back. They were flexible, fluid; they could transform to be what the other person needed. With him, it was easy. Letting her guard down with Hope was natural – it felt _right._

He gazed down at her, clenching and unclenching his jaw in anticipation, releasing a shaky exhale of air. Her eyes drifted back to the crescent shape at his neck, and her lips curved into a sly smile. She would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the affect she had on him. At times it was maddening to her how clinical and objective he could be, but she was able to bring out that other side of his - the less polite, less admirable one. She knew just how to get under his skin. His thumb flicked across her nipple, kneading at the soft flesh. She leaned into his touch, roughly jerking his hair and pulling his mouth to her breast. He gently sucked, circling her nipple with his moist tongue until it was hard. She shuddered, feeling a spike of pleasure. Her self-restraint was slowly ebbing away with each gentle touch and flick of his tongue, but he surprised her by suddenly pulling back. He whirled her around, pressing her chest into the wall.

“Hmph,” she made a noise, turning her cheek to look back at him – perplexed by the sudden change in position.

Her questions were answered when she felt his hand slip beneath the waistband of her black jeans and panties, and she stifled a groan when his middle finger found her clit. He pressed his hand further down, feeling her growing wetness, and slid his index and middle finger up and down the tender flesh there. He brushed her hair away from her neck with his free hand and nuzzled into her skin, kissing and tasting the salty sweat gathering there. She pushed her body flush against the wall, trapping his hand there - using the wall as leverage to grind against his fingers as he massaged her clit with quick and deft strokes that left her aching for more. She reached her arm around, grabbing his neck and yanking him closer to her. Her body writhed against his chest and the wall as his free hand teased at her breast, his hot breath coming out rapid and heavy against her neck.

“Please,” she gave a sharp intake of breath, and glanced to the red leather leg holster bag she took off when she arrived.

He seemed to catch on, as evidenced by the removal of his hand. He was at the door in two quick strides, picking up the bag. He unzipped it and rifled around for a moment until a curious look came to his face - as if he was surprised to see what she was carrying around.

“Are you planning on needing these out of the apartment?” he flashed an exceedingly arrogant grin, holding the incriminating square wrapper between his fingers.

She scoffed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I like to be prepared.”

“I’m sure,” he mocked, walking back to her.

His hand reached for the button of her pants, but her quick reflexes caught his wrist, twisting it.

“Watch that mouth. I bite,” she warned, pulling her lips back and baring her teeth in a playful show.

“I am well aware of that fact,” he bent his head, pointedly looking at the bite on his neck from the corner of his eye.

Her fingers lightly brushed the mark on his neck, following the half-moon shape. She kissed it, tracing her tongue over the shallow indents she engraved there. Nimble fingers unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and a guttural moan escaped his mouth when she touched him. She jumped, slightly startled when his hands made audible contact with the wall. His palms dug into the stark white drywall beside her face, supporting his angled body against her. He didn’t seem to notice her surprise, his head was lowered and his eyes were opening and closing as he felt her gentle touches. Barely restrained, unsteady, intakes of breath slipped past his lips as she slid her hand up and down.

One hand fisted in the back of her hair and a tremor went through her when he kissed her, roughly, pressing the full weight of his body against her. Their hands were roaming; exploring every inch of each other’s bodies, until each of them frantically removed the articles of clothing impeding them. Hope’s hands slipped from her waist to the back of her thighs, and he raised her against the wall. Her legs opened, widening involuntarily for him, and wrapped around his lower back. She let her head fall back against the wall, her hands resting at his shoulders, moaning when he thrust inside her. She sank up and down against the wall, meeting his every thrust with equal force until they were both gleaming with sweat and her hair was sticking to her face and neck. He was slowly losing it, as evidenced by the incomprehensible half-sentences he was uttering in blissful adoration of her. Her mouth opened in silent gasps of gratification every so often, and a cry escaped when he angled their bodies and pushed deeper inside her.

He stopped, looking at her to make sure she was okay.

"There," she moaned, urging him to continue.

She kissed him roughly, aggressively, barely even registering in her sex-induced haze when she sucked at the skin of his neck that it would leave dark red marks in the morning. It was juvenile and absolutely lacking in all propriety, but she didn't care. Her body slammed against the wall in uneven, and rough motions as their speed quickened, as he drove deeper and deeper inside her - hitting her perfectly. Her own thoughts were becoming muddled and disorganized - all she could focus on was his hands under her thighs, the way his breathing stuttered and became more forced with each thrust, and just how insanely _good_ he felt inside her.

As if he could sense what she was thinking, he raised his eyes to meet hers, and she brushed the sweaty hair from his forehead so she could meet his gaze. She lost track of time as their bodies rocked back and forth against each other, as she pleaded with him to push harder and harder, each of them punishing and pleasuring the other in a different way.

She quivered around him, shaking uncontrollably as she dug her nails into his back. She cried out his name, and watched as his own control completely snapped upon hearing her. Her back arched off the wall, and she pressed her entire weight against him. He stumbled, and she let them topple to the floor – a mess of limbs and exhaustion as she lay on top of him in post-sex calmness.

***

A light breeze caressed her, and the small braid in her hair blew gracefully in the wind as she stood out on the terrace. She was wrapped in the black sheets from his bed, gazing down at the city below. The morning sun poured over her, shining against her neck.

He opened the terrace door, and handed her a ceramic tea cup. He put his arm around her, and she nestled into his shoulder, wrapping a hand around his waist. They stood in silence, sipping green tea together.

“You should have potted plants out here,” she said, breaking the silence after a while.

He rubbed her arm, glancing down at her. “Would you like to pick some out?”

“Yes,” she met his eyes. “I would.”

They smiled at each other, and went back to quietly sipping their tea.

***

> **_Epilogue – A month (and a half) later_ **

The day of Serah’s wedding finally approached. It was a small ceremony taking place behind their house, in front of the hedge maze outside.

Lightning was Serah’s maid of honor, and Vanille and Yeul were bridesmaids. Hope was the best man, and Sazh, Noel, and Fang were groomsmen. Fang insisted she walk Vanille down the aisle, and she ordered Hope, as the best man, to take her shopping for a woman’s suit. (He was rather pleased with the results – they chose well.)

Hope took his place next to Snow, patting the taller man on the back as he nervously waited for the procession to start. Fang walked arm and arm with Vanille down the aisle first. Each of the bridesmaids wore their own style of bridesmaid dress – the only requirement Serah gave was that it be a soft shade of pink. Noel and Yeul followed close behind them, and the four took their respective places. Hope had been with Snow all morning helping him prepare, and hadn’t seen Lightning all day. She purposely never showed him the dress she was wearing. He practically felt as anxious as Snow to see them. Dajh came down the aisle on Sazh’s shoulders, happily laughing and throwing red poppies all about. He took his place on Serah’s side, and Sazh took his place behind Snow, as the officiant of the ceremony.

Finally, Serah followed, escorted by Lightning. Serah decided on a sweetheart cut, tulle wedding gown, with halter straps and an embroidered lace bodice that clung tight to her small frame. Her engagement necklace hung, proudly, around her neck as she walked down the aisle with Lightning. Hope’s eyes drifted to Lightning, though, and stayed there. She wore a simple, short dress that showed off her legs, with lace elbow-length sleeves. The dress had a keyhole shaped back, showing her bare skin, and was buttoned at the top. She looked absolutely radiant. Lightning gave Snow a stern - albeit happy - look as she gave Serah away to him before taking her place to the left of her sister.

As they read their vows, Yeul bowed her head in respect, her dark blue hair framing her face, and Vanille was crying happily – hurriedly wiping her eyes. Sazh pronounced them man and wife, and Snow wasted no time in picking Serah up and twirling her around, kissing her happily.

After a few dances, Serah took a seat and let Snow remove her garter. Fang and Noel were whistling, trying their absolute best to embarrass them. When Snow removed it, he turned and grinned at the rest of them.

“All right, all right,” Snow said. “Our pool of candidates isn’t very large, but let’s do this.”

Snow turned his back to the groomsmen, and threw the garter behind his head. Fang jumped in the air, and caught it. At the same time, Serah threw her white bouquet of flowers to the three bridesmaids. Yeul and Lightning didn’t exactly make any serious attempts to grab it, but regardless, the bouquet landed in Vanille’s hands without her even having to reach for it. She gasped in surprise, looking down at the flowers. Fang came up behind Vanille and threw her arms around her, laughing as she patted the smaller girl on the head.

“What do you say, crybaby? Wanna get married?”

Vanille covered her face with her hands, staring at Fang with wide eyes.

“Fang! Don’t tease me like that!” she whined, but there was a smile hidden behind her hands.

“You think I’d joke about something so serious?” Fang shook her head, looking down at the petite redhead. “Of course, we’d do it like we did back in Oerba – gotta keep our traditions, after all.”

Hope laughed, happily, when he saw Vanille’s dazzling smile as Fang put the garter around her arm.

***

Fang was at the small outside bar Snow and Serah had set up on their back patio, getting drinks for everyone. Earlier in the night she was showing Lightning all the things she learned on the trip she took with Vanille about this world’s culture, which apparently included all the different kinds of drinks people had come up with. As she showed Lightning how to bartend Fang somehow managed to convince the normally stout no-nonsense soldier to try one of the drinks. Lightning refused at first, saying it wasn’t really her thing, but Fang eventually won her over. Lightning tried a drink, and then she tried another…and another…

Hope wasn’t quite sure how that was going to work out for Lightning - neither of them were really big drinkers. He liked the occasional wine, but Fang was giving her some seriously hard stuff. He had a sneaking suspicion he would be holding Lightning’s braided hair up in the morning, and she would most likely be demanding to know why he let this happen to her. His thoughts were interrupted when Serah suddenly came up and drug Lightning away to the dance floor, yelling that she still needed to get a dance with her sister.

Hope took a seat at the bar, leaning his elbow against the smooth wood.

“Come to tell me all your woes?” Fang leaned over the counter, resting her chin in her palms and gave him a mischievous grin.

He laughed, turning to face her.

“I actually did want to ask you something about when you were in the Dead Dunes with Light,” he stopped talking when Fang rolled her eyes and groaned.

“Why are we repeating the past? You’ve gotta learn to enjoy life while you have it, kid,” she said, putting an encouraging hand on his shoulder.

“I have a point, trust me,” he said. “I heard you over the comm. say before the Chaos flooded, you were never afraid to die, because you knew it wasn’t the end and we would be reborn. I was wondering, does that mean you think it’s possible we would all find each other again?”

Her expression turned thoughtful, and she paused for a moment before answering – her tone serious now.

“Of course I think it’s possible. The bonds we made, they don’t just die, right? That lives on in the Chaos, and someday...”

She paused again, her gaze drifting to Vanille who was singing and laughing as she held hands with Yeul and they spun in circles.

“Someday, I believe we reach a point where we’re totally still. Where we become one with another human being, and we know peace,” she turned back to Hope and shrugged her shoulders. “Or maybe I’m just an old hag that doesn’t know a thing, but that’s what I believe. I think we’d find each other again no matter what. Hell, maybe in another life we already knew each other. Anything’s possible.”

“Fang,” Hope let out a breath he’d been holding, overcome with a sense of relief at the strength and conviction behind her words. “Thank you.”

She gave him a wry smirk, but nodded with sincerity in her eyes.

***

“I wish mom could’ve been here,” Serah said, slow dancing with her sister.

Lightning nodded. “She would have liked Snow.”

“I think you’re right, but I’m just glad you’re here.”

“So am I. And, Snow..well…”

Lightning spun them in the direction of Snow, and saw him arm wrestling with Noel at one of the tables they’d set up.

“Well, Snow is Snow,” she laughed, shaking her head. “And I’m glad he’s part of the family.”

Tears welled in Serah’s eyes, and she threw her arms around Lightning’s neck.

“I love you so much, sis!” she exclaimed.

Lightning smiled, patting Serah’s hair. “I love you too.”

***

All the drinks Fang had given Lightning were starting to show. She was beginning to act more comfortable, verging on kittenish in the way she was hanging onto Hope's arm and lavishing him with public displays of affection. He nervously laughed, shrugging her off of him a few times when her behavior was bordering on risqué.

“You may want to keep a shorter leash on this one,” Fang said, appearing behind Hope and Lightning at the table they were sitting at.

Fang leaned over Hope and wrapped her arms around both of them – slightly smushing the three of them together.

“Oh?” Lightning raised an eyebrow, looking back and forth between Fang and Hope.

“Mhmm,” Fang ruffled Hope’s hair. “You should’ve seen how this one was getting propositioned all night at Snow’s bachelor party. I’m telling ya, Light, it’s a vicious world out there.”

Lightning glared at Hope when she saw him blush.

“I promise you he was faithful as a priest,” Fang laughed. “Then again, priests aren’t ever very faithful, now are they?”

She grinned, and turned around, grabbing Vanille’s hands and pulling her to the patio to dance. Lightning’s hand shot out, grabbing Hope by the tie, and yanked him so he was mere centimeters from her.

“Is that true?” she asked.

“She’s exaggerating,” he scoffed.

“So it is,” Lightning mused for a moment. “Hm, I suppose I have no choice but to keep an eye out then.”

“Keep an eye out?” Hope pursed his lips. “At least I don’t subject you to awkward dinner dates with other women.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you? I told you before - the guy was only there for the steak!”

“ _Really?_ The steak? Is that what he told you?” Hope snorted, amused by Lightning’s naïveté.

“Just shut up,” she pressed her mouth to his.

He pulled back after a moment, thoroughly out of breath. She placed a kiss to his neck, flirtatiously giggling against his skin.

“Take me home,” she demanded in a hushed tone against his earlobe.

He wasted no time in complying with her wishes.


End file.
